Followers

We're part of

Correct me if I'm wrong, but I do believe A Tale of Fur and Flesh is my first shapeshifter story. ;-) And just in time for Halloween!

Let me tell you a bit about this new book. A Tale of Fur and Flesh was inspired by a Brothers Grimm fairy tale called Allerleirauh, about a princess escaping the clutches of her father, who is determined to take her as his bride.

Yikes.

My version contains a lot more shape-shifters (and a lot more explicit sex!), but it's also an HEA erotic romance, which is kinda rare for me. Like all fairy tale material, there's a deep psychological underscoring, but not to the point that it overwhelms the hot lovin' Princess Lally enjoys along her journey.

Of the wolf, the bear, the bunny, and the snake, I can't decide which shifter is my favourite. It's a tie between the Snape-like sssssnake and the coarse Scottish wolf. Have a read and see which one you prefer. Or maybe you'll crush on the good King Aelwyn as hard as Lally does.

Princess Lally was a happy child until her mother’s untimely death. It was then her devastated and distraught father locked himself away, leaving Lally to grow into adulthood without parents to care for her. When the King finally emerges after ten years, he is no longer the man Lally remembers from the halcyon days of youth. He has descended into lunacy, and is intent upon marrying his daughter.

Lally’s joy at her father’s return quickly becomes rage, and she takes refuge in the darker realms of her personality, surrounded by a forest of shape-shifting creatures. Disguised as a peasant girl under layers of furs, she seeks shelter and protection in the land of the good King Aelwyn. Will Lally remain in the dark world of the shapeshifters and succumb to the same madness that has overtaken her father, or will she find relief from her suffering in the one man who treats her with kindness?

Warnings: This title contains graphic and sexually explicit language.

Word Count: 25,400

EXCERPT:

Revere the natural world. That’s what mother taught. Honour the forest and its creatures will respect their humble visitors. But mother was gone now, so Lally climbed the mulberry tree, ripping thin sheaths of bark from its trunk. Ten years, and still father was grieving, locked alone in his chamber. Lally found a sturdy branch to sit on before tearing fruit-bearing offshoots from the great tree. Mother was dead and father was an impotent ruler. An absent parent, as well. He didn’t care a crumb about her. She’d grown into womanhood without him. If only he had died instead of mother. Mother was so knowledgeable and caring and wise. She could easily have run the kingdom on her own.

Black juice bled through pink silk as Lally smeared the fruit against her tattered gown. Tearing mulberries from their stems, she pressed them into the fabric of her slashed skirts and armless bodice. Her dress now stood dark against her pale skin. The contrast was pleasing. Her body was life costumed in death; peaceful death cloaking useless life.

“Ah, you too are dressed all in black,” Lally said to the tree snake slithering along her branch. She had no human companions.

Why shouldn’t she speak to the creature? “Why do I exist?” she asked him. “I have no purpose, no friends, no utility. If she ceased to be, who would miss the abhorrent princess?”

The unanticipated response shook the princess. Nearly falling from her branch, Lally jerked around to see who addressed her. She had not heard any person’s approach, and indeed saw no man about.

“Who speaks?” she commanded. “Reveal yourself.”

“As you desire, your highness-s-s.” As the dark voice replied, a gust of wind forced Lally to grip the wide branch with all her might. The small tree snake grew and grew, sprouting human arms and legs. The flesh of his core was formed of black snakeskin, gleaming like chainmail. With his newly-formed human hands, he rubbed his snake’s head to reveal a human countenance. Long hair shone black as his eyes, but his face was pale as winter.

So the tale was true! The villagers believed all forest creatures to possess human wisdom. But, despite their capacity to take on fleshly form, it was said they only did so over matters of great import.

Lally’s heart leapt from her breast to her mouth. She was utterly unable to speak. Snake’s eyes, partially veiled by raven locks, shone like two candles in a cavern. Great insight glowed from the dark gaze of this manly being. It was as though he viewed her from a distance, but knew precisely what she desired. To touch his drawn cheeks, caress his thin pink lips, to feel the smooth black diamonds upon his chest...

In honor of the upcoming National Novel Writing Month (a.k.a. the "Nanowrimo Challenge"), each week I'll be posting an excerpt from each of my published works. This week's lucky excerpt comes from my first erotic release, A Middle Class Existence:

When Riki’s "perfect world" is threatened she embarks on a plan of vengeance to take back what is hers from her husband's ex-boss, Morgan Fahr. She soon discovers that she revels in the feelings of power she has over men like Fahr through casual sex and seeks it out with a shady lawyer as well. But as her simple blackmail plot spirals out of control, Riki begins to realize the only way out could lead to murder.

“What is a nice girl like you doing in a racket like this?” He sat beside me as I straightened up and tucked the wad into my back jeans pocket.

“Making a living like everyone else, I guess.” I crossed my legs to remove a spike-heeled sandal. “Everybody got to eat. Everybody got to breathe. Everybody got to fuck now and then, too.”

A dark cloud traversed his features, but the storm quickly passed. He leaned back on the bed and folded his arms beneath his head, watching me unzip my pants with unadulterated lust.

“You shouldn’t use such crude terms. You’re much too young and pretty to be talking like a sailor. You remind me of somebody… somebody I met once. Now, who could it be?”

I shimmied out of my jeans then carefully folded and placed them by my jacket. Could he have remembered me from a company picnic? Or maybe those few times I actually came by the factory in the middle of the day to talk to Daniel about the kids? Did I have enough guts to bluff my way out of this situation if he did place my face and name together?

I turned around, facing him, and took a deep breath, filling out my black, lacy B-cup as much as possible as I peeled off my top. “Your Sunday school teacher perhaps?”

His gaze dropped below my chin. It worked. I wouldn’t have to worry about him studying my face too much. The man was going to explode if he didn’t get off soon.

He chuckled. “More like the little red-headed girl I snuck out of Sunday School with to make-out behind her father’s barn. Come on over here."

What’s better than a fireman? Twelve of
them, naked, on the pages of your calendar.

The
hot firemen you loved in Opposites Attract
are back with their friends, but now they're wearing a lot less clothing and
heating up the holidays like never before. Be prepared for secret identities, a
sizzling calendar shoot, smoldering bachelor firemen up for auction, sexy
Santas and a whole lot more!

Secret Recipe: A
famous lifestyle maven who secretly can't cook? Good thing a sizzling hot
fireman/calendar model knows his way around the kitchen and is there to rescue
her and her charity event from certain disaster. If they detour to the bedroom
on the way to the kitchen, even better.

Mr. December: When
the real December calendar man gets sick, a rich department store owner has to
step in for him and play Santa. Once he meets the pretty lady photographer sent
to cover the event, things really start to heat up. The only problem is, she
has no idea who he really is, and he’s not all that keen on telling her.

Can't Buy Me Love:
What do you get when you take one over-worked caterer on the brink of a nervous
breakdown and add a hunky fireman for sale at the charity bachelor auction
she's catering? You get a woman who finally finds the one gift to buy herself
that she's never going to want to return.

If
you love the old black-and-white classic holiday movies such as Christmas in Connecticut, Shop Around the Corner and Holiday Inn, you’ll love the three Nice & Naughty stories they inspired.

This book was
previously published. It has been reedited from the original version.

Excerpt
(Rated G)

“Getting called
out before breakfast sucks. I could smell the bacon as we were driving away.”
Troy sat next to Scott in the fire truck looking cranky. Troy’s stomach let out
a big rumble to reinforce the point.

Antonio,
the eternal optimist, shrugged. “Hey, it wasn’t so bad. At least it was a false
alarm or we’d still be at the call now.”

As the
driver pulled the truck up to the open garage bay, Scott had to admit he agreed
with Troy. He was pretty hungry and annoyed himself. He was happy to be back at
the firehouse knowing breakfast was on the horizon, but his lesson with Alexis
was ruined. And he’d been making such progress too. Damn, he could picture her
nestled in nicely between him and the stove. Her cute little heart-shaped ass
right there in front of him.

Scott
yanked his mind off that image before he embarrassed himself and moved into
safer territory. “Don’t worry, boys. Give me ten minutes and it’s omelets and
bacon for everyone.”

Or maybe
not... Scott looked up at the second story of the firehouse and saw smoke billowing
out of the open kitchen window.

Troy
followed his gaze. “What the hell?”

“Holy
shit. Did you leave the stove on?” Antonio was getting out of his seat even
before the truck came to a stop.

“No, of
course not.” But he had left an unsupervised, unauthorized woman who didn’t
know how to cook alone with a six-burner, double-oven, propane stove.

Scott
leapt out of the truck just as the driver parked. He barreled up the stairs to
the kitchen. The sound of tramping boots told him the rest of the crew was
right behind him. They hadn’t taken the time to remove their equipment, which
was good, because after seeing that smoke, Scott figured they’d need it.

He
reached the kitchen doorway and skidded to a stop.

Alexis
stood with the fire extinguisher in her hand and quite a mess of eggs and
extinguisher foam on the stove. She turned toward them and her face crumbled.
“I’m so sorry.”

She
looked like she wanted to flee, but since a mass of hungry firemen blocked the
only exit she stood like a deer in headlights.

“Who does
she belong to?” Antonio asked.

No way
around it. Scott had to fess up. “Um, that would be me.”

“Really?”
Antonio sounded impressed. He raised a brow and looked from Alexis, back to
Scott.

“Does this mean there’s no breakfast?” Troy
asked the question that Scott figured must be on everyone’s mind and that’s
when Alexis started to cry.

Oh, boy.

Scott stepped
forward and took the fire extinguisher canister out of her hands. It was heavy.
He was impressed with her strength and quick thinking, but he decided to save
the compliments for later. He put it on the floor in the corner, about to tell
her everything was all right when she turned to him with her eyes brimming.

“I
thought I could finish making the omelets for you. I made eight more, just like
you showed me except one at a time. There was some egg left over and I didn’t
think it would keep so I was making a thirteenth one, but I must have put too
much butter because I figured I’d just use it all up rather than throw it away.
But there was a lot in the pan and when I flipped the omelet, it splashed and
the stove went on fire and there was all this smoke and flames shooting in the
air…” She looked up at him from under the brim of her baseball cap, tears
streaking her face.

It was a
pretty amazing story. She’d actually finished making the breakfast all on her
own. Scott opened the oven and sure enough, there was the sheet pan filled with
omelets. Some were thinner, others fatter, a few a little browner, and one was
broken in the middle, but all in all, they didn’t look too bad. He was
impressed.

“I’ll
take care of getting those on the table, Scotty. Since you’ve got your hands
full here.” Troy tilted his head toward Alexis with a smirk and then grabbed
two potholders from the hook on the wall. “Everybody to the table. Bacon and
eggs on the way.”

Scott was
more than happy when the crowd followed Troy and the food to the dining table
in the adjoining room, leaving him alone with Alexis in the kitchen.

He
stepped closer, hoping to convince her it was really all right, when she blurted
out again that she was sorry, dodged around him and took off through the door. He
followed her down the stairs, barely getting hold of her arm before she got out
to the street. Damn, she was fast for a little thing. Good thing he was well
practiced at running in his boots.

“Wait. Alexis,
this is nothing to be upset about.”

She
finally stopped and spun to look up at him. “Nothing to be upset about? I
almost burnt down your firehouse.”

He
stifled a smile. It was pretty ironic, a fire in the firehouse. “But you
didn’t. You were smart enough to use the extinguisher and put it out.”

“Maybe I’d
make a good firefighter, because I sure as hell can’t cook.” She shook her head
and plopped down on the stairs.

“We’re
always looking for new recruits.” As if that wouldn’t be too distracting.
Alexis next to him at work every day, and in the next bunk at night...

“Great.
Thanks.” She rolled her eyes at his suggestion.

“Seriously,
Alexis. The omelets you made looked great. You did that all on your own with no
one to help. I’m very proud of you.” He lifted her chin and forced her to look
at him. “So what do you want to learn for your next lesson?”

“You’re
still willing to teach me after this?”

Oh, there
was plenty he’d like to teach her, and only some of it involved cooking. “Of
course. I told you, I don’t frighten easily.”

She
hesitated. “I would like to learn how to make some hors d’oeuvres and
appetizer-type things. Can you do that?”

The
demand for hors d’oeuvres was not so big in the army or at the firehouse, but
no need for her to know that. “Of course I can. I’m the appetizer king. I’m off
tonight. Your place or mine?”

“Mine I
guess. I have all this cooking stuff people have given me. Half of it’s in the
boxes still. I guess I should learn how to use it.”

“Perfect.
What time?” Yeah, he didn’t sound too anxious. Sure.

“Five-ish
I guess?” She shrugged.

“Great.”
Scott thrust his cell phone at her. “Put your number and address in the contact
list.”

He tried
to control his smile as she did. Yeah,
baby. Alexis’s apartment tonight.

After
Scott had watched Alexis drive away he ran up the stairs two at a time, his
cell phone still clutched in his hand.

He blew
into the dining room and came to a halt before the group of guys sitting at the
table. “Anyone got a cookbook?”

Antonio
glanced up. “Looks like you’ve done enough cooking already this morning judging
by the smoke and the smoking hot girl in the kitchen.”

Scott
braced himself for the inevitable teasing. He knew he couldn’t get away with
having a girl in the firehouse, particularly one who’d almost burnt it down,
without some ribbing. “Ha, ha. Okay everybody, get all your jabs in now because
I have to come up with some recipes for hors d’oeuvres by tonight.”

“Hors
d’oeuvres. What the hell for?” Troy looked up between bites of omelet.

“Because
I’m giving a cooking lesson to the girl you just met. I’m going to her
apartment tonight.”

“Well if
this is how she cooks all the time, make sure she’s got smoke detectors with
fresh batteries installed while you’re over there.” Still chewing and with his
coffee mug clutched in one fist, Troy rose from his chair, walked toward the
kitchen and returned with a book in his hand. He dumped it on the table in
front of Scott. “There you go, Scotty. Gift from my sister two years ago. By
the way, your girl’s omelets are pretty good.”

His girl. Hopefully by tonight she would be. Scott
glanced down at the book, which had obviously never even had its colorful and
slightly dusty grease-coated cover cracked open in the two years it had sat in
the firehouse kitchen. “Lexi Cooper Cooks.
Never heard of her.” Scott started to flip through the pages.

“Sure you
have. She’s the party planner working with the children’s hospital on the
bachelor auction fundraiser.” Antonio snagged another piece of bacon off the
tray.

“She’s
the one? So it’s her fault I’ll be parading around half naked and getting
auctioned off. Great. Can’t wait to meet her at her little pre-auction bachelor
mixer cocktail party thing and tell her what I think about her ideas,” Troy
grumbled.

Scott
laughed, but had to be impressed. Judging by the photos, there were some pretty
good-looking appetizers in the book. Nothing he couldn’t handle making. “Can I
borrow this?”

Troy
waved a hand absently. “Be my guest. What’s mine is yours, man.”

“Thanks.”
Scott grabbed the last omelet and a few pieces of bacon, and settled in with
the cookbook to make plans for his evening with Alexis.

Hopefully
he’d work up to a dessert lesson next, maybe something involving whipped cream.
His mind reeled with the possibilities as he flipped the book over to look in
the index in the back…and stopped dead

There,
smiling up at him from the back cover of the book, holding a whisk in one hand
and a bowl in the other was his cooking student Alexis, only she was really
Lexi Cooper, famous cookbook author.

“Scotty.
What’s wrong, man? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Antonio frowned at him
from across the table.

Scott
swallowed and flipped the book over to hide the picture. “Nothing. Just can’t
believe I have to make hors d’oeuvres.”

The
question of the day—of the whole damn year—remained. Why the hell was he
teaching Lexi Cooper, best selling cookbook author according to the book blurb,
how to cook anything?

The
doorbell rang at five minutes before five. Jeez. Scott must be anxious to get
on with the lesson. Lexi was sure anxious to see him. She definitely approved
of his hands-on cooking techniques. She had to admit in spite of the small
fire, which she had put out, she really had the hang of making omelets now.
She’d even tried making one at home and was able to actually eat it.

That was
a step in the right direction. She’d had to break the brand new omelet pan that
one of the cookware companies had sent her as a promotional gift out of its box
first. But the eggs tasted great. Then she’d written an article about how to
cook brunch for a dozen for her weekly lifestyle column. She’d thrown in a few
tidbits about table linens and centerpieces and viola, she’d gone from firehouse to foo-foo in one swipe of her
pen, or computer keyboard as it were. It had been a very productive day.

Now she was
about to have an evening alone with Scott. Lexi flung open the door, excited to
get right down to more lessons…and maybe a little something else too.

“Something
you want to tell me?” Scott, in jeans now instead of his uniform pants but
still in his T-shirt, braced himself against the doorframe with one hand. He
held her cookbook in the other. Her own photo smiled back at her from the back
cover.

Let me tell you a tale of a love triangle: man, woman and goose. Join the fowl frolic as Henry the man and Henry the goose spar over heroine Emily's affections while they try to capture the foul (or is it fowl?) pumpkin thieves.

Pumpkinnapper was a finalist in the 2011 EPIC eBook Awards Competition in the Historical Romance category.

Last night someone tried to steal the widowed Mrs. Emily Metcalfe's pumpkins. She's certain the culprit is her old childhood nemesis and the secret love of her youth, Henry, nicknamed Hank, whom she hasn't seen in ten years.

Henry, Baron Grey, who's never forgotten the girl he loved but couldn't pursue so long ago, decides to catch Emily's would-be thief. Even after she reveals his childhood nickname--the one he would rather forget. And even after her jealous pet goose bites him in an embarrassing place.

Oh, the things a man does for love.

EXCERPT:"Emily, even with Henry, formidable as he is--" Hank glared at the goose. The goose glared back "--you need protection. I will send over some footmen to guard the place."

"No. Turnip Cottage belongs to Charlotte's husband. What will the townspeople think, with Lord Grey's servants about my house?"

Her refusal increased his fury. The sight of her hand on that damned goose's head didn't improve his mood, either. He balled his fists as his patience thinned and something else thickened. "I'll find you a guard dog. You must have some protection out here all alone."

"But I have Henry." She patted the goose's head and the bird snuggled into her hand. Again.

Heat flooded Hank, part desire for Emily's touch, and part desire to murder that damned goose, who was where he wanted to be. His insides groaned. "Very well, then, you leave me no choice. I will help you catch the culprits."

"But--"

He changed his voice to the voice that either melted a woman or earned him a slap in the face. "Who knows, mayhap we would enjoy ourselves as I lie in wait with you." I would love to lie with you.

Her eyes widened. Had she understood the innuendo?

"I cannot stay alone with you, and you know it," she said, her voice severe.

"You are a widow in your own home and no one will see. I will make sure of it."

"No." She marched back into her cottage and slammed the door. Henry smirked and waddled away.

I'm Linda Banche, and I write witty, sweet/sensual Regency romances with nary a rake or royal in sight. Most contain humor, some fantasy, and occasionally a little paranormal. But comedy is my love, and I've created my own wacky blend of humor and Regency with stories that can elicit reactions from a gentle smile to a belly laugh.

Like many other romance authors, I read romances for years before I wrote my own. Once I tried, I quickly discovered how difficult writing is. Did I stop? No, I'm persistent--that's French for "too stupid to quit".

I live in New England and like aerobics and ducks.

So, laugh along with me on a voyage back to the Regency era. Me and my ducks. Quack.

I have five Regency novellas, all from The Wild Rose Press. LADY OF THE STARS (time travel, finalist in Science Fiction Romance in the 2010 EPIC eBook Contest), PUMPKINNAPPER (finalist in the 2011 EPIC Contest in the Historical Romance category. I'm two for two now. I've entered the EPIC contest twice, and I've finaled twice.), MISTLETOE EVERYWHERE, GIFTS GONE ASTRAY and, lastly, AN INHERITANCE FOR THE BIRDS (coming 2/1/2012).

Elizabeth Silk is struggling to reconcile her passion for the vampire overlord Saloman and her allegiance to the vampire hunters. When a shocking vampire revolt calls Saloman away from her, she refuses to follow him.

To make matters worse, Saloman’s beloved cousin Luk has been found and awakened by one of his greatest enemies. Frenzied with bloodlust, Luk embarks on a killing spree and prepares to expose Saloman’s biggest vulnerability: Elizabeth.

But under Saloman’s regime, vampires have become less concerned with secrecy, no longer willing to hide their power. Rumors are swirling about attacks on humans. After Saloman joins forces with the vampire hunters to consolidate his power, Elizabeth begins to understand her role in the inevitable collision of the two worlds. She could bring resolution between vampires and humans—if she can manage to stay alive long enough to play both sides….

***

She gripped the stake, bracing her free hand against the rock. She didn’t need the detector anymore. She could sense Ancient.

He moved differently, like a shadow around the curve of the hill, gliding over the boulder a yard away from her feet. And instead of attacking, he stood still on top of the boulder and regarded her in silence. Only his long hair stirred in the breeze.

Slowly, Elizabeth lowered her stake. “Saloman.”

Saloman stepped down from the boulder and walked the distance between them. She tried to speak, questions and information tangling in her head and on her lips. In the end, she never made more than an inarticulate gurgle, because the words vanished as his sheer presence overwhelmed her. There was only his name in her head, his profound black eyes to drown in, his body pressing her flat into the rock. The hilt of his sword, a turning gift from Luk, brushed against her hip.

Wordlessly, she lifted her face to his. But he didn’t kiss her mouth. His silken lips took her neck in a strong, urgent pull. The hard shaft of his erection pressed between her thighs, and inappropriate lust galloped through her. Well, it had been a long time, several weeks. . . .

It seemed he felt the same. His tongue lapped at her vein and without warning his teeth pierced her skin. Her mouth opened in a silent cry of pain that vanished into the surge of fierce, familiar pleasure. She gripped his arms hard, letting herself glory just for a moment in the blissful weakness of her blood rushing into his mouth in answer to the tug of his lips.

So lost was she in the blood kiss that it was a moment before she realized he’d unzipped her jeans and pushed them and her panties down over her hips.

“Saloman, the hunters are here,” she managed. “They’re coming now.”

His cool, stroking hands left her hips, perversely disappointing her, until he seized the Ancient detector from her frozen hand and hurled it into the night. Before she could object to this vandalism, he lifted her and entered her body in one swift, gliding movement that shattered the remnants of her resistance.

Blood and sex and Elizabeth, he said inside her head.

Bastard. Can’t you even say hello?

He detached his teeth from her neck and flicked his tongue over the wound to heal it. His burning gaze lifted to hers.

“Hello,” he said huskily, and took her mouth.

Acclaim for BLOOD ETERNAL:

"the delightful adventure continues..." - Romantic Times.

"a lot of interesting twists and turns... unique perspective. I really liked Elizabeth... a good balance of action and romance. I enjoyed Ms Treanor's writing style and will be looking for more of her work." - Getting Naughty Between the Stacks.

"I thought that this novel would be like every other romance novel, but Treanor proved me wrong!... I can't wait to read the next installment." Livin' Life Through Books.

"Marie Treanor writes a very smart story... I fell in love with Saloman the moment he showed up... Smooth as silk...definitely steamy...I particularly liked the ending..." The Enchanted Book.

Adam's Treasure is a historical romance set right after the Civil War.

Back cover blurb:

Master of disguise, Adam Skelding, is a Pinkerton agent on
assignment. His mission:Find the
missing gold and stop the secretive Knights of the Golden Circle before they
gain power. The future of the country depends upon it.

All Marilla Logan wanted was a way to escape from her life
as a tavern wench. A dark stranger who breaks into her room offers her only
chance. Swept up into a life of intrigue, she becomes ensnared in a tangled web
of clues, danger, and emotion to break the code.

Excerpt:

The seconds ticked by and no one spoke. But Adam knew there were men in the room; he could hear them breathing and smell their sweat mingling with the smoky scents. A sharp prick of pain above his left nipple almost made him reach out to punch the closest person. He forcibly stopped any reaction. Just as he had told Marilla—no reaction to the unexpected. “Do you feel anything?” a new voice asked. “Yes,” Adam said, hoping against hope that he would say the right thing. “What was it?” “A torture.” The liquid warmth of his blood trailed down his chest. A low murmur of approval rippled through the room. Someone took his right hand and led him forward. “Mr. Adam Smith, as no man can become a Knight unless he is free, and of mature age…” The voice droned on and Adam answered as best he could. “Kneel” He did. The rituals went on for hours. The blindfold stayed on. Adam kneeled and stood when told, answered questions and parroted vows. “I solemnly promise that I will not write those secrets…hidden mysteries…prevent disclosure by my unworthiness…” Men shifted and moved through the room. He was given wine to drink, laced with some underlying taste. “…Violation, I understand, requires the penalty of having my throat cut across, my tongue torn out by the root...” he recited. More drink. Kneel. Stand. Darkness. Smoke. “…So help me, God,” he repeated.No faces. No friends.

This is a Christmas of firsts for girlfriends Regan and Maisie. Maisie hasn’t returned to her hometown since beginning her transition from male to female. Her mother and sisters welcome her with open arms, but what about brother Jerry? Is he just going to ignore her forever? And who is this mystery woman he’s brought home for the holidays?

Regan figures she’s just along for the ride, lending her girlfriend support, until Maisie’s mother surprises her with a special dinner guest. Regan hasn’t spoken to her hard-drinking Cree father in years, and he’s the last person in the world she wants to sit across from at Christmas dinner. Can Regan finally trust the man who’s once again claimed to have changed for good?

Together, Regan and Maisie face drama beyond their wildest imaginings. Will their trials during this eventful family Christmas challenge their bond… or vanquish their limitations?

Excerpt:

It was one of those wake-ups where you’re not quite sure where you areat first, and for a couple seconds you don’t even care because it feelsso good to be alive. And then everything that happened the night beforecomes flooding to mind, and the morning takes a sharp turn…

Regan had slept on her side, which put a crimp in her neck, but Maisiewas pressed right up against her back, enfolding her in the world’swarmest arms. Even if she’d wanted to, she couldn’t have moved. Reganwas right at the edge of Maisie’s little twin mattress.

When the world came into focus, Regan stared straight ahead, at thelower shelves of the bookshelf in her girlfriend’s childhood bedroom. Itwas most definitely a space decorated for a boy—royal blue walls with aToronto Maple Leafs border, autographed souvenir baseballs from whenthe Jays won the World Series in ’92 and again in ‘93—but Regan tried toignore that fact as much as she tried to ignore the erection lodgedfirmly between her ass cheeks. Morningwood was something Maisie couldn’thelp, and Regan knew her girl would find it humiliating if calledattention to. Penises were not Maisie’s favourite thing in the world,and she had especially harsh feelings toward her own. Regan thoughtMaisie was the most beautiful woman in the world, penis or no penis, butof course she’d respect her girl’s wish to downplay the existence ofthat appendage.

Maisie shifted, making soft moaning noises in her sleep, her long silkynightgown rippled against Regan’s naked back. God, it felt good to have awoman’s soft fabrics against her skin. Regan never wore stuff like thatherself.

The winter sun hadn’t yet risen, and Regan couldn’t see a clockanywhere, but she figured it must be pretty early because she couldn’thear anyone wandering around in this house full of people. She had afaint need to pee, but just couldn’t bring herself to leave a warm bedand a hot body.

As Maisie carved her own path from sleep to wakefulness, her curvaceousbody stretched and writhed. Regan felt the motion against her back like agiant caterpillar. And then that wave halted, and she knew Maisie hadswum her way back to consciousness enough to realize her body wasbetraying her. For a moment, she was stone, and then her soft armsretracted from around Regan’s naked form. When Maisie rolled away after anight in such close proximity, Regan felt it like a stab in the gut.

“Morning, Beautiful,” Regan whispered before she’d even turned to lookat Maisie. Self-fulfilling prophecy—even with a few stray specs ofstubble growing in, Maisie was the prettiest girl Regan had ever known.

I'm so excited to announce I have a new release! My Hot NEW Cowboy BDSM Menage AND THE RANCH HAND MAKES THREE, the Sequel to my Bestselling KARLEIGH'S COWBOYS, is now available!

When I first wrote KARLEIGH'S COWBOYS, I hadn't intended to do a sequel, but it was so popular and so many readers were interested in knowing more about Karleigh's best friend Heather that I couldn't resist. So, I came up with a story for Heather and her husband Clint, and their new ranch hand Blaine. It's hot, it's kinky and it's super sexy! Hope you like it!

Blurb:

In this sequel to Karleigh’s Cowboys, Heather Collins and her husband Clint hire hunky new ranch hand Blaine Saunders. While he clearly has the qualifications to work on a ranch, Heather and Clint are more interested in how good he is in bed.

Clint gets turned on by watching his wife have sex with other men, and since Heather is more than happy to oblige, she doesn’t waste any time seducing Blaine. She and the new ranch hand go from knocking boots in the barn to putting on a show for her husband before finally engaging in a kinky threesome that involves bondage, spanking and some scorching hot sex for all three of them.

Excerpt:

Blaine showed up promptly at eight that night. Having spent the rest of the afternoon and most of the evening thinking about what she had planned, Heather was already turned on as hell and only barely restrained herself from jumping him the minute Clint let him in. But the anticipation only made what all three of them were about to do that much sexier.

Heather greeted him with a long, slow kiss, then smiled pulled away to smile up at him. “Ready to demonstrate some more of those talents I witnessed today, sugar?”

He grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”

Pulse quickening, she took Blaine’s hand and led him down the hallway, stopping in front of a door at the far end. Clint followed, his dark eyes glinting with excitement. Giving the men a sultry look, she opened the door and led the way down the steps to the part of the house she and Clint affectionately called the “playroom.” The comfortable couch, plasma TV and king-size bed wouldn’t have looked out of place in any finished basement. The spanking implements and bondage gear, on the other hand, most assuredly would. As would the expensive leather saddle sitting on a stand to one side of the room.

Heather turned to see Blaine’s reaction to the sex toys, and found him regarding them with a mix of surprise and intrigue. There was a small smile playing around the corners of his lips, too. As if he was already thinking about which of those toys he’d like to try out. Her pulse quickened.

Unlike last night, Clint was going to participate instead of simply watching, so Heather wasn’t surprised when he took the lead. Coming over to her, he circled behind to wrap his arms around her waist. His erection pressed up against her ass, hard and throbbing inside his jeans, and she felt her pussy spasm in response. Pushing her long hair to one side, he pressed a kiss to the curve of her neck. His free hand found the knot on the sash of her short robe, deftly untying it. She was naked underneath the garment and when it fell open, he ran his hand up her midriff to cup her breast.

On the other side of the room, Blaine devoured them with his eyes as Clint teased her nipple with one hand while cupping her sex with the other. Heather licked her lips, turned on as much from Blaine watching them as she was from Clint touching her.

Her husband brushed her ear with his lips, his breath blowing shivers across her. “Time to mount up, babe.”

At the command, Heather slipped her robe off her shoulders and walked over to the saddle. Putting one foot in the stirrup, she gracefully swung her other leg over the side. But instead of sitting down on the saddle like she would if she were riding a horse, though, she leaned forward so that the upper half of her body was on the seat. The position forced her to arch her back, which put her bare ass up in the air and her pussy on display for the men. It also put her clit in perfect contact with on the cantle, and she couldn’t help grinding against the leather as she made herself comfortable. Then she wrapped her hands around the saddle horn and gave the two men a come-and-get-me look over her shoulder.

Clint walked past her and over to the shelf with the bondage gear. Well, one of the shelves, anyway. She already knew what he was getting, but her heart still beat wildly when she saw him pick up the rubber bit gag. Not only did the horse-style bit go hand-in-hand with the equine theme, but it always got her aroused as hell.

When Clint offered the gag to her, Heather obediently opened her mouth so he could put it between her teeth. A quiver went through her as he buckled the gag behind her neck, and she let out a little whimper. When he was done, he ran his hand down her back and over the curve of her derriere to tease her exposed pussy with his fingers. She lifted her bottom higher, silently begging for more, only to be rewarded with a hard smack on the ass.

Startled, she squealed against the gag.

Her husband chuckled wickedly. “Your pussy will get plenty of attention after Blaine and I tan this gorgeous ass of yours.”

Blaine. She’d been so caught up in what Clint was doing she forgot the ranch hand was there.

She turned her head to glance at him, and caught her breath. Dang, if he didn’t look like he’d just like to eat her right up. And dang, if she didn’t want him to. After her spanking, of course.

Heather held her breath as Clint surveyed the spanking implements hanging on the wall. There were paddles of every shape, size and thickness, as well as straps, floggers and riding crops, so he had a lot to choose from. He must have wanted to keep with the equine theme because he picked the black riding crop with the loop on the end. She trembled just from the thought of him using it on her.

Clint glanced at Blaine, then jerked his head at the remaining spanking implements on the wall. “Take your pick.”

Blaine’s eyes locked with Heather’s for a moment before he walked over to browse the selection. He spent a long time considering the paddles, even taking a few of the wood ones off their hooks to smack them experimentally against his hand, but in the end, he decided on a strap. Two inches wide and made of supple leather, it was one of her favorite things to get spanked with.

Clint crossed the room to stand beside her, where he flicked the slapper at the tip of the crop against his jean-clad leg. Heather blinked up at him expectantly.

“Ready for your spanking, babe?”

She nodded, mumbling around the gag as she presented her ass even higher in the air.

Free spirited Ian Coulter works hard and plays harder. An ex-cop turned private investigator, Ian enjoys meeting new men and making new friends. A night out ends up with one man on the floor at his feet, and another asking for his help. Big trouble’s brewing in little Amethyst Cove, and Ian’s a step behind. He’s quick to see Rick Mohr is the man holding the flare at the end a long, dark tunnel.

Undercover agent Rick Mohr walks a fine line, serving two masters. Insider trading, counterfeit printing plates, and a blown-up yacht have Rick stuck between two Federal agencies, one of which has been compromised. Rick has to discover the mole before it’s too late. When Ian Coulter walks into his life, Rick grabs the chance to salvage his assignment with both hands.

It doesn’t take Ian and Rick long to discover joining forces, and sharing resources, has definite perks - ones not found in any departmental manual.

INTRO:

“And yet, here you sit across from me.”

“For one thing, this is the first time I’ve actually gotten a look at you. No one ever said you were so…” He paused and blinked at me.

I helped him out. “Hot?”

Rick grinned. “The very word I was searching for.”

“You’re full of shit, Rick Mohr. What do you really want?”

“I’ve heard you like to have fun—safe fun. Was I misinformed?”

And they called me a slut. Rick had me beat for moving in on a guy fast. “I love to have ‘fun—safe fun,’ but I don’t know you. I haven’t seen you around at any of the local haunts.”

“Well, you know how it is. Boy meets boy. Boy falls in love. Boy gets dumped after eleven years and has to work hard to get back into the swing of things.”

I tapped the wide silver band he wore on his left ring finger. “Hmm. I’ve heard of that. Some weird word that starts with an ‘R.’”

“Relationship?”

I snapped my fingers. “That’s the one! Can’t say as I have any first-hand experience with it.”

Rick sighed. “I actually liked it, although I thought it would have a longer shelf-life.”

I sipped the lemony drink I’d had such a craving for. That craving, and another stronger one, was about to land me in trouble, I just knew it.

“I’ll tell you something, Rick. I don’t like men who cheat on their partners.”

His level gaze met mine. “I don’t have a partner. I have an ex-partner.”

“Why not take off the ring?”

“Truth? I’m not quite ready to have guys hitting on me. Maybe you can help me get over the hump.”

Years of cruising men, of reading their body language and looking into lots of pretty eyes gave me a good read on him. He wasn’t being honest with me about something, but it had nothing to do with the ring, the ex-partner, or the fact he liked to have control of the situation. The little voice inside, the one that never steered me wrong when it was time to cut and run, was silent, and I wanted to learn more about him.

The bottom line was we both wanted to get laid, no strings attached. I could do that for him. Call me Dr. Love or whatever. He wanted over the hump, and I was more than happy to help him out with that.

“So, Rick, why don’t we finish our drinks, then blow this joint and go find a more private place?”

EXCERPT

The intensity of Rick’s gaze slammed into me.

“What if I told you I could give you something concrete?”

Cold sweat broke out under my arms and across my back. I shivered and sucked in a deep breath. “This isn’t the place to discuss business, Mr. Mohr.”

Comprehension flickered in his pretty eyes. He reached across the table and covered my hands with his. My skin prickled with a new awareness of him. I had the sudden urge to give him about eight inches of concrete, regardless of how bad an idea it had become.

“You’re right, of course.” I got another shock as he raised my knuckles to his lips. “How about a little stroll on the beach? We can kick off our shoes and roll up our pant legs and get our feet wet. Get comfortable with each other. Whataya say?”
A walk outside was better than a hook-up inside. For all I knew, he worked for Earl Fox and had on a wire. This could be a set-up. That’s how paranoid I was about Foxy. I pulled away from the warmth of his touch and kept my voice pitched to where only Rick could hear me.

“We’ll take my car. I’ll bring you back later. And I want you to put your cell phone in your car and leave it.”
“I understand your caution, but it’s unnecessary.”

“I’ll be the judge of that, thank you.” I set my hat back on my head, slid off the bench seat, and held my hand out to him. He took it and uncurled his long, lean body out of the booth. I had to look up at him, and I’m no little fellow at five-eleven and one hundred seventy-nine pounds of carefully crafted muscle.

His arms came around me and I realized just how big a man he really was. His lips brushed my ear as he whispered to me, “I’m going to enjoy this.”

Before I could think, much less ask him what the fuck he was talking about, his mouth covered mine. I opened my lips to protest, and his tongue slipped past my poor defenses. Little stars danced behind my closed eyes. My arms slid around his neck.

Familiar heat coiled low in my belly when his tongue danced over mine. My balls tingled as my over-eager cock hardened, swelling relentlessly to an aching fullness. I inhaled, and, under the warm, spicy scent of his cologne, breathed in the rich, earthy tang of an aroused male.

Rick’s big hand cupped my left ass cheek and pressed me tightly to his pelvis. The hard ridge of his dick met mine and I hazed on the rush of testosterone flooding into my blood. I needed to sink my root deep in this man and hear him beg for more.

What was left of my sanity shouted I was in big trouble when his lips trailed fire along my jaw line and down my neck. I ignored it and cupped his balls in front of all witnesses, covering his bulging zipper with my palm. At least eight inches.

His big hands stroked up my back, then down my sides. I leaned over into the booth and grabbed my drink with shaking hands.
What the fuck had I just allowed to happen?

Set in the Borealis Space Station, a rusting bucket of bolts at the edge of conquered space, this novella reads like an episode of your favorite sci-fi TV show, with much satisfying romantic content.

A dandy is cheating in a gambling den of the Borealis space station, and Lieutenant Zara Frankel intends to catch him in the act. She always gets her man, but this one could prove more than she can handle.

Captain Czerno Drake, code name Black Dragon, intends to break his innocent uncle from the most secure penitentiary in the galaxy, on the Borealis space station. He will stop at nothing to succeed, even enrolling the help of the lovely straight arrow TPP enforcer. When Zara realizes that she’s been used by a shrewd but seductive rebel, however, her reaction surprises everyone, most of all herself.

EXCERPT:
When she breezed through the doors of the crowded and noisy casino, Zara glided straight to the private area behind the row of tall greenery and searched the high stakes tables for her suspected cheater. The owner said he wore a tan and yellow outfit and flaunted a white fluffy Terran cat. An ostentatious luxury.

She easily spotted the caramel overcoat and the sleeping white fluff on the pink gambling table. As she walked toward the table, she studied the square shoulders stretching the expensive velvet, strong shoulders for a pleasure-seeking dandy. The gleaming dark hair tied at the nape with a yellow silk scarf denoted a rare degree of refinement for a human male, and as she neared him, the musky scent of his cologne made her best perfume seem cheap in comparison.

Just before she reached him, he turned around, rose from his chair, and smiled down at her. He stood taller than she expected, muscular, with strong thighs bulging under the caramel velvet pants tucked into soft brown boots. "Captain Czerno Drake, of the Providence. Lucky Drake to the ladies." The deep baritone voice rumbled low, like a sexy promise. The regular planes of his face, the square jaw, high forehead, dark brow, and the sparkle in his deep topaz eyes under thick eyelashes screamed of perfect genes and high-born society.

When he took her hand and kissed her fingers lightly, a frisson crossed her spine and her legs melted like chocolate in a solar flare. Despite the extraordinary refinement of his garb and manners, this man was alpha-male through and through, and as wild as they came. Eye candy in caramel velvet and yellow silk wrapping. All she could think about was unwrapping him, like a present at yuletide.

Here's an excerpt from my latest medieval historical romance, 'To Touch The Knight', where the hero tries his hand at cross-dressing...

Excerpt.

When Ranulf was escorted into the tent of the Lady of Lilies by a heavily pregnant maid, the princess laughed. He could hear her chuckling clearly through her veil and saw her eyes sparkling, half-closing in sheer amusement.

"My lord!" Seeing him and his costume - devised by Ranulf in a moment of madness on his way from the castle bath-house through the camp - Sir Tancred was clearly scandalized. His pale eyes bulged with indignation as he spilled most of his cup of wine down his gray beard and scarlet tunic.

"This will not do!" her gaudy steward protested, huffing and squawking like a hen thrust off its nest. The pregnant maid was giggling through her fingers.

Ranulf struck a pose. "I am Venus, a fair woman, and all is seemly between women." How did girls walk in long skirts? He felt to be hauling a mile of sacking around with him. "I come to give my sister-princess a kiss of peace."

As the princess continued to laugh, clutching her side, he puckered his lips, provoking another stream of laughter from his intended target.

"My lord, please!" the steward tried again, but the princess held up a hand.

"What is your hair made of, sir? Is it wool?"

"Bought from a spinster in camp," Ranulf replied, dragging the messy cloud of uncombed wool from his head and stepping with relief out of his rough bundle of sacking "skirts". "Where did my disguise fail, princess?"

"You are outrageous!" Sir Tancred was another old hen, planting hands on hips and scarlet with indignation. "It is an insult to the princess!"

"Not so, good sir," put in the lady swiftly, slipping between them with a soft swish of her silks. "Sir Ranulf has learned that I too can take a jest against myself, and bear no ill-will for his foolery."

Ranulf thought: that is so, and she is right: she can take a joke against herself. But all I had planned with this was to jest a little, and to steal a kiss.

As if she guessed his mind, the princess went on. "Still, for my patience and forgiveness I would request a favor in return. The small silken star in silver, pinned to your breast: it is a favorite of mine."

"Come take it, then," he said at once, recognizing the justice and straightening as she closed in, drawing in his belly and praying his body would not betray him. It was a near thing, though, with this slender, shimmering moon of a princess, delicate as any courtesan of his dreams. She was still in her gold and cream, with many sparkling jewels and now she glided to him on cloth of some amazing stuff that was as fine and supple as spiders' threads, actually walking on it. The whole tent was carpeted in it, he now realized, and he felt shamed by his own great boots.

She drew near, her perfume slapping him lightly to arousal as a maze of images whirled in his head: a pair of bright eyes, a running scrap of a maid in brown, dainty feet.

Her fingers brushed over his chest, over his best tunic, and his heart hammered his ribs in answer. "Do not take too long, or I may change my mind," he muttered. Only the thought of the pregnant maid being shocked into labor stopped him from snatching her to him and seizing the kiss and all that he desired.

She had been unpinning the favor. Now she glanced up, her startled eyes showing how young she was, in truth, and, with the smile in her voice, how knowing.

"I will soon be done, my lord. There." She held up the silly scrap of cloth and he kissed it, and her gloved fingers. They were cool under his lips, quivering softly. He thought of them de-gloved, tracing down his ribs, scooping lower to his belly, and was lost afresh.

She knew, of course, and stepped back. "Do you go to the revels this evening, my lord?"

"Not without you, my lady," he retorted, glad of the distraction as the steward and Sir Tancred hissed through their beards, no longer hens but geese.

"You know I do not indulge in such revels," she answered easily. "I spend my nights in contemplation."

"Surely not of angels or god? I thought you did not believe in anything you could not touch or see."

The glow faded a little from her eyes. "In my experience that is the best guide."

"And all knights are dreamers to you, yes I know. But have you not considered that you may be wrong, princess?" he replied, feeling somewhat in the ascendancy again, "That there may indeed be more than the narrow realm of the senses?"

Expecting a sharp rejoinder, he was disconcerted when he saw her narrow shoulders sag. In truth he had not meant to hurt her, he realized, only to shake her a little. "But have you seen your other favors?" Keen to change the subject he held out his arms, where the favors won were threaded and tied like tiny banners amidst the long dagged-cut sleeves of his green and gold tunic.

"So many," she said, and a stricken look rose in her eyes, swiftly hidden as she turned away.